Author: Peter Sidebotham

I’m sitting on the slow train from Bunbury to Perth, contemplating the strange beauty around me.  There is only a slow train, twice a day, trundling through the coastal bushlands of Western Australia.  They stretch away to the East, over gently rolling hills, through to the incomprehensible vastness of the Australian interior.  Miles and miles of arid scrub and meek eucalyptus, their flaky trunks, gleaming white, brown, salmon and umber in their own fragile shade.  Closer to the line, flocks of sheep and herds of cattle crop away at the ochre-dry grass, patiently ruminating, while occasional ibises search expectantly with their long curved beaks in the sparse marshy pools, and the hot sun burns in its endless southern sky.

It is a harsh, raw beauty.  One that screams out at you: ‘you must fight to survive!’  This is not a place for the timid.  Life is here to be lived.  Fast.  This slow, bumbling Bunbury train doesn’t really fit in; trundling gently through the sultry afternoon heat.  No.  If you want to get by here, you live life fully.  You play, you party.  You join your beach-bronzed mates at the surf club, or for a beer by the pool.  And if you do get burnt, you bounce back quickly with a fresh covering of green when the next rains come.

‘I said, “O for the wings of a dove,

that I might fly away and be at rest”,

I yearn to flee to the mountains,

to make my dwelling in the wilderness.’

So I really have done it: stepped out of the clutter and busyness of my life at home; left it all behind for a while, and stepped on that plane.  At least temporarily, for 3 months.  Setting it aside and taking a rest; a vacation.

Vacare Deo: Being free for God.

And here I am, sitting outside on the verandah and Colette and John’s place, enjoying the cool stillness of the Australian morning, just occasionally interrupted by the wild screeching of parrots, but otherwise peaceful, quiet.  With tropical birds singing their morning chorus, cicadas chirruping, and the gentle rustle of the breeze through the eucalyptus trees.  A new year.  A new start.  A fresh beginning on the journey of my life.

There is much to look back on in my journey so far: my growing years – out in Hong Kong – learning, growing, developing – through school and university; my family years – life with Helen, our wonderful marriage, bringing up Esther and Joe, Cambodia and our ongoing journey with Servants, my developing career; and then, these past three turbulent years – the roller coaster ride of Esther and Joe’s amazing achievements, their moving away from home, the Land’s End to John O’Groats cycle ride, my stroke, Helen’s death.  The sudden emptiness. Silence.  Anguish.

Then, slowly picking myself up again.  Learning to walk again this labyrinth of my life.

This time, even more than before, dependent on so many others to support and hold me.

A new year.  A new beginning.  And time to step aside.  To pause and reflect.  Full of wonder at the mystery of life.  Full of gratitude for all the blessings I’ve known.  Full of hope for the future – wherever that journey may lead me.

Vacare Deo.